Thursday, June 18, 2009


Left alone, wet diaper staining the floorboards
I cried and cried and cried
until I stopped.

Without love, without hugs, so cold
I turned inward to seek something else:
to make myself special.

Pain shattered my baby mind
into a thousand bits
'We'll make you special,' said the bits.

They took me to the underworld
fed me pomegranate seeds and mead
and danced around me in the dark.

'We're here to keep bad people bad,' said the bits
and they put me on a pedestal
and crowned me Queen of Hell.

I was their flashlight in the gloom
with batteries that never died,
though I wanted to.

I stood on my pedestal
shackled by the throat
my crown bejeweled, so special.

Singing my soft song: 'I bravely go
where only darkness grows,'
song of the bird in the gilded cage.

The bits became magnets
to draw in fear and rape
they split and grew many, grew into an army.

My bird soul battered
against its cage of gold,
its special cage. So special.

'Be free or die,' sang the bird soul
'Die,' said the bits
'Be Free,' said I.

Be Free. And with those words
the child's spell was broken,
the Queen of Hell threw off her shackle.

Her image fell to pieces, jeweled crown shattered
Her light went into my heart
the army of bits stood down.

The little bird flew.
The little bird sang.
Just an ordinary bird.
A bird like all others.
Nothing special.